


Bullets for Sale and Slaughter

by clv44



Series: Tales from the Wildemount Frontier [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Western, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Gen, Guns, POV Percival "Percy" de Rolo III, Shooting Guns, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clv44/pseuds/clv44
Summary: Gun smiths Percy and Taryon are strangers in a strange land, a long way from their native land of England. However, they haven't found much trouble on their journey across the American frontier. That was before they meet an eccentric young lady from New Orleans and her surely traveling companion. They've brought along trouble aplenty.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre & Beauregard Lionett, Taryon Darrington & Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III
Series: Tales from the Wildemount Frontier [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612876
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Bullets for Sale and Slaughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know absolutely nothing about guns and I'm looking up the New Orleans slang as I go along. Sorry.

The town of Hupperdook was quiet as the grave at four in the afternoon. It was the calm before the ruckus of their infamous all-night celebrations. Work hard, play harder. That was the motto of this town, where not a soul was seen outside the coal mines until dark. Even the shop vendors would pull double shifts; it's not like there was anybody to sell to until they got off work. When the work bell did ring, though, every workhand threw down their shovels and picks, hung up their hard hats and scrambled down into town like the devil was nipping at their heels. Every lantern in the town was lit, the beer flowed like a waterfall, and the shops were overrun with customers. That last point in particular was what had Percy and Taryon pulling their horse-drawn wagon to a halt on Baldur Street, joining the long line of wagons that were already being set up.

"Surely," complained Taryon, looking down at the wet mud that squelched under the wheels, "We should park more towards the center of town? There would be more customers there, flocking to the middle of the festivities."

Percy jumped off the driver's seat, unconcerned with the mud that splattered his riding boots. Taryon curled his nose and fidgeted with the neckline of his shirt, which was already down three buttons to show off his considerable chest hair.

"Town center is where the local merchants are, Tary," Percy reminded him, taking the bridle off the horses and going to get the loose rope. "And we don't know how deep local loyalty runs here. Customers or, hell, even other merchants, might not take kindly to two foreigners robbing them of business." He tied the ropes loosely around the necks of their steeds and tied the other ends to a nearby post.

"It would at least be cleaner," he heard Taryon mutter. The filth of the American West had been the bane of Taryon's existence since they’d started their business. He would complain about finding pebbles in his shoes, straw getting caught in his hair and scuff marks on his shiny, polished boots. Percy would just listen quietly. It was no use trying to make Tary be quiet; he would vent as he would see fit. It never made him any cleaner.

They spent the next hour getting the cart ready for customers, opening up the window display to show off their stock of finely-made, pristinely polished weaponry. The sun gleamed off the silver and gold-colored steel of rifles, pistols, shotguns, and bayonets. Boxes of bullets lay stacked on top of one another, gleaming rows of ammunition on display for all to see. Bundles of steel-tipped arrows lined the back with a rack of crossbows hanging right beside them. Percy smiled, taking a break to admire the display; every piece was made by his or Tary's hand, and all of it looked so beautiful in a way he couldn't describe. He sighed happily.

"God damn it all!" Terry shrieked from behind the cart. Percy lazily sauntered over to peak behind the cart and saw that Tary's crisp white trousers were splattered with mud. A box of ammo right on his foot. Percy rolled his eyes and freed his partner, carrying the ammo into the cart.

"I'm not gonna say I told you so," Percy called as he stacked the boxes of sniper rounds. He had told Taryon to wear practical clothing. Tary dismissed the suggestion every time on the grounds that "One of us has to look presentable, Percy. A gentleman draws a crowd." Percy would have pointed out that nobody was drawn to a gentleman with mud on his boots and shit on his slacks, but trying to talk Tary out of his pride was like trying to train a dog out of chasing cats.

The rest of the afternoon passed with relative smoothness. Percy took the outside jobs of unloading crates and getting food and water for the horses. Tary took the inside jobs of polishing the merchandise and making everything look presentable. By the time the sun was just sinking behind the trees, their stand was a gorgeous display of gleaming weaponry. The sound of the work bell rang sweet and clear from the lone tower across town. From a distance, the two gunsmiths could see the workers scurrying down the mountain like a colony of ants. Percy rubbed his hands together.

"Let's hope these gentlemen have recently had a score to settle," he said and Taryon chuckled. They had a joke between the two of them that the only people who bought guns besides soldiers were men whose wives had cheated on them and women with vengeful husbands. An unfair statement, as far as they knew, but the two Brits were all about leaning into stereotypes.

The streets of the town filled up quickly with miners and their families. It amazed Percy how quickly Americans could get drinks in their hands; it was barely after sundown it seemed already that everybody was chugging some kind of alcohol.

"Guns, my good fellows!" Tary cried into the crowd. "Ammunition of all kinds and sizes! Crossbows, if it suits your fancy! Arrows tipped with steel! You won't find better craftsmanship from here to New York City!"

Getting the attention of passersby wasn't the issue; an English accent cutting through a chorus of South-Western twang was enough to turn the head of anybody within earshot. The issue was that Percy never knew how they would react. A whole century later and there were still some Americans who harbored bitterness towards the British Empire. It was often shown to be unfounded anxiety, but you could never be sure.

Thankfully, the men and women of Hupperdook didn't seem to care where their guns came from as long as they were good. And guns didn't get any better than the work of Percival de Rolo and Taryon Darrington. One man was struck dumb by the simple hunting rifle that he purchased, running his hand over the beautifully polished wood stock and shining metal barrel. One woman who bought a whole box of shotgun shells smelled them to make sure the powder was good. "Whoo!" she hollered once she'd taken a whiff. "That shit could blow the roof off the whole mine just on its own!" The night was going great. They should’ve known it couldn’t last.

The trouble began, as with most kinds of trouble, with a seemingly innocent encounter with one of the customers. He spotted her among the crowd, a boyish-looking young woman with unusually short hair. He probably wouldn't have been able to tell she was a woman had it not been for her figure. But even that was unusual; she wore neither a skirt nor a dress, instead donning a long leather jacket, a pair of black slacks, and a dark blue button-up shirt. The outline of an especially long gun was slung over her back and Percy felt giddy just looking at it; he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen an honest to God sniper rifle in his journeys.

The woman caught his eye and he gave her a smile.

"In need of an ammunition refill, ma'am?" he called. "I have some sniper ammunition in stock. Or I could give your weapon a tuneup; when was the last time you oiled the barrel or sanded the butt stock?"

The girl frowned at him, but Percy didn't flinch. He got the impression that frowning was this woman's default expression. She kept staring at him, not moving or saying anything. Percy turned away and got back to his other customers; he couldn't spend his whole evening having a staring match with this woman.

"What caliber do you have?" Percy looked up at the gruff voice and saw the frowning woman standing at the counter. Her accent wasn't from this part of the country. It was something northern and he wondered for a second what could've brought her all the way down here. "I need .451 inches." Percy's brain quickly converted the length into centimeters. He didn't even need to look as he reached for the shelf above the counter window and grabbed a box of bullets.

"How many?" he asked, flipping the lid to let her see the bullets' condition. Before she could answer, she was tackled from the side of what Percy first registered as a blur of bright blue.

"Hey, Beau!" the blue blur squealed. "How long you gonna be here?" The big blue blur turned out to be a girl in a bright blue dress. The dress was of excellent make, but it was wrinkled in a way that said it had just been taken out of the suitcase. The end of her skirt was flecked with mud, as were a pair of riding boots that looked like they were still being broken in. Tary would've had a conniption of he saw her. Luckily, he was in the backwoods answering the call of nature.

"As soon as I get some ammunition for my weapon, Ms. Lavorre," the woman, Beau, replied. The girl in blue rolled her eyes, flashing a dazzling smile.

"Beau, woadie, call me Jester. You're so formal." Percy's brain hit a block trying to place her accent. It was like a mix of the American Southern dialect and a French accent. She dropped the "r's" on some of her words and she used words he wasn't even sure were words. It was the most bizarre thing he'd ever heard.

Beau's mouth twitched into what Percy might've guessed was a restrained smile, but then she turned back to him and it was gone. "Thirty rounds," she said.

"Our stock doesn't come cheap," warned Percy, bending down to get the woman a price list. The sound of clattering metal snapped him back up. On the counter sat a stack of gold pieces. His mouth fell open; honest to God gold pieces. Most of their customers were farmers and miners with maybe three silver pieces to rub together, never mind gold.

"It's on me," said Jester, the blue girl, smiling at her companion who frowned but said nothing. Percy picked up a gold piece and bit it. It gave under his teeth, proving real.

"Indeed," he agreed, dazed, pushing the entire box of bullets towards them. Beau took the box in her arms and grunted a thank you.

"Hawt!" Jester proclaimed. "Now, let's getta move on! I thought I saw a sweet stand ova backatown!" She dragged Beau away by the arm, still talking in that accent Percy couldn't place. He didn't really care about that, though, because he had actual gold in his hand. His immediate reaction was to find Tary and wave it right in front of his nose. He didn't care if Tary was having the most painful shit of his life in those woods, he needed to see this now.

After putting up a sign that said "Will Be Back Later," and locking up, Percy flew from the wagon, rushing into the woods that surrounded the town. Away from the aromas of fried bread and alcohol, Percy was enveloped in the sweet smells of the woods. Normally, he wouldn't have given a damn about nature, but with the gold pieces clutched tightly in his hand, he felt like the world was a fresh, new place. He heard the rustling of brush and zipped towards the sound.

"Tary! Pull up your trousers! I've got something here even you can't complain about!" He made his way around a particularly large tree only to skid to a halt. Taryon was being held by a rough-looking man, his hands held behind his back and the barrel of a pistol pointed straight at his neck. Two other men stepped out of the shadows, hunting knives gripped in their fists.

"Oh," the man holding Tary grunted. "The other one. Ain't that just peachy keen, boys?" The other two men smiled, brandishing their blades. "We greatly appreciate comin' on over yourself, limey. We were gonna take this one here and make him lead us to ya, but he wasn't budgin'. This is one loyal boy you've got there." Percy looked at Tary's face; it was horribly bruised, his nose was broken and his hair, usually slicked back and tidy, was falling into his eyes, the tips sticking to his bloody cheeks. He was barely standing and his eyes fluttered as he struggled to keep them open. Percy gulped, trying to keep his hands steady. He'd been through worse situations than this. Much worse.

"I've got a few gold coins here," he said, opening his hand slightly. A small ray of moonlight broke through the branches above and glinted off the precious metal. "Honest to God gold coins. No fool's gold, you can test it yourself. Just let him go and I'll let you walk away with these." Percy slowly, imperceptibly, drew back the small hammer on the custom-made mini-pistol attached to his wrist and silently thanked whoever there was to thank that he hadn't rolled up his sleeves while he was working. The man holding Tary squinted stupidly at him.

"You sure it's not fool's gold?" he asked. Percy flipped one of the gold pieces into the air. To the man's credit, he caught it perfectly. To his misfortune, Tary suddenly became lively and stamped hard on his foot. The man cried out as Taryon scurried away. Percy slapped at his wrist, activating the spring that sent his wrist-pistol into his hand. He only took a millisecond to aim and then fired.

The bullets for Percy's custom-made hidden weapon were incredibly small; they had to be, due to the size of the gun, which was miniscule. This made it more likely to miss and if you did hit something, it wasn't that likely to register. A projectile the size of a pinhead isn't going to do much damage against leather, even if it is flying through the air at 100 miles an hour. Unfortunately for the three gentleman in the forest, Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III was the best shot with any gun any side of any river, anywhere on the planet. The bullet went straight through the gunman's eye, lodging itself in the back of his brain. He was dead before he even registered the pain.

The man slumped forward and Percy couldn't help but smile. Pride swelled in his chest as he turned his gun on the other two men. The gun was empty, being that it could only hold one round at a time. Anything more complicated and it was possible the thing would jam. Even so, an empty gun was better than no gun at all. The two thieves, staring open-mouthed at the form of their dead leader, dropped their knives and held up their shaking hands.

"I'm going to give you one chance to walk away." Percy's voice was as cool as steel. Tary lazily scooped up the dead man's gun and pointed it at the two men, who by now were barely keeping themselves standing, the way their knees were shaking. "One chance to go and be better men. Make any wrong moves and we blow your heads off. Understood?" The two men nodded. "Good, now take your guns out of the holsters and toss them away from you." They did. "Now, turn around and start--"

"Hey, Mister Gun-Man!" Percy and Taryon whipped around, finding the girl in the blue dress that Percy had met earlier. She was holding what looked like several rounds of sniper rifle ammunition in both hands.

"You gave us more than we paid for," she explained. Her eyes caught sight of their guns, the two men practically pissing themselves with fear, and frowned. "Who's attackin' who?"

"They tried to rob us, the scoundrels," Taryon huffed. "Fear not, though. We've disarmed them and they have this one chance to walk away."

"Well, that’s nice of ya," she said, smiling at Tary. "Wouldn't be many folks who give that chance."

"Speaking of which." Percy turned back to the two men. "You can both start walking away now." But the men didn't move. Tary pulled the hammer back on his recovered pistol.

"You heard the man," he said, projecting his voice. "Start moving or we'll have to shoot." They still didn't move. They were just staring. Not at them, Percy realized, but behind them. He turned slowly and saw Jester still standing there, sniper rounds still clutched in her hands.

"What?" she asked.

Then several things happened at once. The two men dove for their guns. Percy whipped back around and instinctively pulled the trigger, only to be reminded that he had no more shots left. Tary fired at the two men but his shot went wide, sending dirt flying as it struck the ground. Thinking quickly, Percy grabbed Jester by the arm and pulled her behind the big tree beside them. He heard the bullet strike the wood and the two of them were showered in an explosion of bark.

"Holy shit!" Jester cried. Percy looked to check on her and saw she had a splitting grin on her face. Good Lord, she was enjoying this. "That was close!"

"Percy!" Percy whipped back around. Just across from him was Taryon, laying on his stomach behind a fallen log. For an insane second, Percy worried about the state of his clothes, how dirty they'd be from laying in the dirt. Then Percy gave himself a good slap and shook his head.

"Are you alright?" Tary called.

"Yes, as is the girl."

"Give us the Lavorre girl!" one of the thieves shouted. Percy felt his gut drop into his feet; they knew who she was. That meant she was either a wanted criminal with a bounty on her head or a target for assassination. A governor's daughter or something. Excellent.

"I'm going to toss you my gun." Tary pumped his arm a few times, holding the pistol by the grip. Percy nodded, ready, and Tary tossed the gun into the air. Percy didn't believe in luck or divine intervention or any other outside force that interfered with the lives of men. But he could've sworn that he heard some cosmic entity laughing their ass off as, by sheer dumb chance, the pistol was shot out of the air by opposing fire, away from where he hid behind the tree. Percy whacked his head against the tree and Tary let out a little squeak noise. They were so dead. So very, very dead.

"Would this work?"

Percy opened his eyes to find a shiny six-shooter being waved right under his nose. He could've kissed Jester right there, but there was no time. He made sure there were rounds in the chamber and that the cylinder wouldn't stick, before popping out from behind cover for barely a second, firing, and jumping back behind the tree as he felt the whiz of a bullet go right past his temple, pulling at his hair in the slipstream. He didn't bother poking his head back out to see if he'd missed. He never missed.

"Yeah, try that again, son!" This thief seemed to be a little braver than his fallen teammates. "I'm a faster draw than either of them. I know I almost gotchu with that shot. Poke your head out again I will kill you. Just hand over the Lavorre girl and--"

Percy heard a popping noise, followed by a string of gargling noises. A second later, the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the forest. Percy instinctively ducked down, scanning the woods for the shooter. But when he stopped to consider it, he hadn't seen where the bullet had hit. Had it been a complete miss and just flew off into the air?

Jester ran out into the open faster than Percy could catch her. She looked to where the thieves were and then looked behind her to blow a kiss.

"Thanks, Beau!" she called and all the pieces clicked for Percy. A sniper shot. So that meant the popping noise he'd heard before was...

He walked out from behind the tree and saw the final thief lying in the grass. Beau had gone for the throat, blowing a hole clean through the man's neck. Percy could even see the white of his spine through the gooey red flesh. 

Tary came up beside him, twitching,looking this way and that. He seemed to notice the gun Percy held in his hand for the first time."Where did you get that?" 

Percy gestured towards Jester, who was bending down to pick up all the sniper shots she had dropped.

"Where were you keeping that?" Tary asked, incredulous. Jester stood and lifted up her skirt. Percy was going to look away until he saw the gun harness strapped to Jester's thigh. She winked at them and bent down to keep scooping up the rounds.

* * *

"She's on the run." Beau took a bite of bacon as Percy sipped his coffee. They were sitting on the ground behind his and Tary's wagon. Tary had build a cooking fire and now bacon, eggs and mushrooms popped and sizzled together on a pan. Jester was fascinated by Tary's cooking and begged him to show her his recipe, even though his recipe was throwing whatever he happened to find in the saddlebags into a pan or pot. As Jester stared over Tary's shoulder at the pan, Percy had taken Beau aside for a talk.

"I almost died for that girl, you know?" Percy reminded her. "You could give me a little more than that."

Beau shrugged. "That was all they told me, the people who hired me to protect her. They told me people were after her and to get her from point A to point B as soon as possible."

Percy cocked an eyebrow.

"No." she answered his unspoken question. "You don't get to know the names of points A and B." She wolfed down the rest of the bacon strip. "Tell Taryon this is pretty good. It's hard to fuck up bacon, but he made it, like, actively good."

"I'll do no such thing," Percy replied. "His head's far too big already." Beau let out a dry puff of air that Percy would call a laugh if he thought this woman capable of laughter.

"Whatever." She wiped her hands on her slacks. "Hey, Jester! We're leaving! Let's go!" She held out a calloused hand and he clasped it. "Take care of yourself."

"Same to you."

"That's not in the job description." Beau looked over his shoulder. "Jester! Chop chop! Let's go!"

Percy looked over his shoulder and saw Jester with her arms around Tary's neck. Tary seemed to have no idea what to do with his hands. Jester pecked him on the cheek and his face went red. She ran over to Percy and hugged him as well, which he had the good manners to return.

"Thank you," she said. "I woulda been dead back there."

"You're welcome." He pulled away. "Just don't stray too far from Beau."

Jester smiled and pecked his cheek, before skipping over to where Beau had prepared their horses. They took off at a gallop down the empty streets of Hupperdook. The town was practically dead at 9am, so Beau figured they could leave without anyone seeing them. It was smart thinking, but Percy knew they'd still be followed. Somebody would find them, start a fight, and more blood would be shed. Once you're on the run, you can never stop running.

"Charming," remarked Tary, coming to stand beside Percy as he watched them leave, kicking up clouds of dust as they disappeared into the woods. "I hope we never see them again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to @dorcasdeadowes for editing. You were a godsend on this one!


End file.
